The debriefing room was dim, the overhead light casting long shadows across the war table cluttered with maps, intel folders, and coffee stained mugs. The air smelled faintly of gun oil and paper. Price stood at the front, hands behind his back, wearing the standard issue olive drab shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, forearms veined and crossed with old scars.

Soap and Gaz were half-lounged on one side of the table, shoulders relaxed but eyes alert. Ghost leaned back in his chair on the opposite end, arms folded, unreadable behind the mask. Laswell sat at the end of the table, one leg crossed over the other, flipping through a stack of reports while nursing a half empty cup of black coffee.

No one noticed the soft creak of the heavy door. It wasn't until a small voice broke through the hum of Price’s gravel-toned briefing that heads began to turn.

“...Daddy?”

The word was more breath than sound, a sleepy mumble from below. Price blinked, pausing mid-sentence. He looked down.

At his boots stood a little figure. His gremlin spawn. Still in pajama pants patterned with tiny tanks and planes. Their hair was a soft, tangled mess. A thumb sat loosely in their mouth, the other hand raised in a wordless request: uppies.

Price, without missing a beat, crouched slightly and scooped the child up into one arm with the practiced ease of a man used to balancing a toddler and a battlefield in the same day. The kid curled instinctively against his chest, tiny hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, their face smushing into the side of his neck with a sigh of complete trust.

“…Thought you were nappin’, little one,” he murmured, brushing a callused thumb gently along their back. Soap coughed, clearly fighting a grin.

Ghost, voice low and dry behind the mask, offered: “Stealth op.”

Laswell gave a quiet chuckle. “Figures. Didn’t even set off the security.”

Price stood tall again, his child securely in his arm, their breathing already starting to slow. He looked around the room like nothing had happened. “Where were we?”

Soap raised an eyebrow. “We were just about to go over how the west entrance got breached. But I think this might be our favorite breach of the day.”